


Twisted Memories

by HedonistInk



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Marco Bott, First Time, Flashbacks, Getting Together, JeanMarco Gift Exchange, JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2018, M/M, Modern Era, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Past Lives, Pastel Marco Bott, Punk Jean Kirstein, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Writer Jean Kirstein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/pseuds/HedonistInk
Summary: Marco’s sketchbook was always a very… personal thing for him. Open it from the front side and it was all… cute. Flowery portraits with big, swooping, flowing lines covered the pages, interspersed with adorable, cartoonish doodles that wouldn’t be out of place in a children’s book. But flip the book to the back and turn it upside down and the art was another case entirely, all nightmares and monsters.Marco always took care to be sure people only ever saw him working on the front side in public, keeping the back half of the book as his dark, personal secret, close at hand for the way it gave him a chance to vent those images when they came into his mind and wouldn’t leave. He knew better than to let people see those worlds that lingered inside his head.At least, until he met a boy whose nightmares matched his own.





	Twisted Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyxari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyxari/gifts).



> Hey, Lyxari, I was your writer this year! I tried to incorporate some of your favourite tropes and a bit of all of your ideas. You asked for pastel/punk or a soulmate AU, so I worked on tossing those both together with a college AU backdrop! I had a lot of fun writing the sort of back-and-forth crosses of images. I hope you like it!

Marco tugged his hat down lower as he crossed the quad, huddling his jacket closer around him. It was cold. Too cold. Had it always gotten this cold in wintertime? The asphalt was coated with haphazard patches of ice and somehow that just felt _wrong_. Even after having grown up in cities and suburbs, his thoughts still yelled that _dirt and_ _cobblestone_ should be what the roads were made of, not _asphalt_. But yet there it was. Marco knew it wasn’t _logical_ to think that, but late at night as he headed back to his dorm from his evening classes, it was easy to forget the way the world around him _was_ compared to how his thoughts told him it _should be_. 

The world dragged itself into slow motion as Marco felt his footing slip out from under him suddenly, the weight of his bag spinning him off balance as he started to fall. His coffee flung to the side as he desperately tried to right himself only to wind up with his hip colliding against the pavement as his books and the contents of his bag scattered everywhere. 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” Marco cursed, pain shooting up through his hip and from his undoubtedly scraped elbow. 

“ _ Whoah! _ Shit, that was a wipe-out, are you okay?” a man’s voice came from the side of him, running footsteps signalling someone’s approach. 

“I— Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m— _ nngh… _ ” Marco cut himself off as he sat up to cradle his elbow. Thank god it wasn’t his drawing arm. 

“Hey… it’s okay… Stay down a minute, yeah?” the man asked. “I’ll round your shit up.” 

Marco nodded with an uncomfortable sound, pulling himself to sit up and look at his would-be rescuer. “...My hero,” he commented cheekily, looking over the man. 

From the two-toned undercut to the long, sharp lines of his face, something about him seemed... shockingly  _ familiar _ , like a long-forgotten dream. He took in the rest of the stranger’s appearance, from the well-worn black denim jacket studded and covered in patches for bands Marco had never heard of to the tattered knees of his jeans to the chipped black nail polish holding— 

Marco froze when he saw the open book in the man’s hands. 

His sketchbook. 

_ The back half _ of his sketchbook. 

Oh, god. 

Marco’s sketchbook was always a very… personal thing for him. Open it from the front side and it was all…  _ cute. _ Flowery portraits with big, swooping, flowing lines covered the pages, interspersed with adorable, cartoonish doodles that wouldn’t be out of place in a children’s book. But Marco was always careful to be sure they never flipped past the halfway point. Flip the book to the back and turn it upside down and the art was another case entirely. The back half of the book was filled with sharp, jagged lines and nightmarish scenes of dismembered bodies and grotesque, monstrous giants devouring people whole, blood and battles, castles and walls. 

Marco always took care to be sure people only ever saw him working on the front side in public, keeping the back half as his dark, personal secret, close at hand for the way it gave him a chance to  _ vent _ those images when they came into his mind and wouldn’t leave. He knew better than to let people see  _ those _ worlds that lingered inside his head. 

When he had been younger, Marco hadn’t been as careful, hadn’t hid the images that plagued him, even dared to insist to people who asked that they were  _ real. _ It was… absurd, he knew, and he knew better than to  _ tell _ anyone about that now, but they still  _ felt _ real—the nightmares that woke him up in the dead of night still  _ felt _ real as his body ached and the vision in his right eye blurred. 

“G-give that back!” Marco insisted, panic making his voice crack. 

The man jumped, snapping the book shut and offering it back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop, I just—” The man’s fingers brushed against his and the rest of his words were lost on Marco as images flooded his mind. 

_ Long fingers intertwined with his _

_ Candlelight reflecting against hazel eyes. _

_ Whispers of soft promises breathed into his hair. _

_ Jean… Jean... _

“You're really good, y'know…” the man’s voice cut through Marco’s daydream, snapping him back to reality. 

“S-sorry, what?” Marco asked, panic setting back in. This guy was  _ definitely _ going to think he was some kind of  _ serial killer _ or something… 

“The shit at the back of your journal…” the man explained as he started gathering up Marco’s books to slip them back into his bag. “You’re way better with that than the flowery bullshit at the front.” 

Marco froze, blinking in disbelief. “What? I— you think so?” 

_ He liked it? _ Marco wasn’t sure if he should be  _ relieved _ or  _ unsettled _ . After all, what kind of person would like  _ that _ kind of art? 

“Y-yeah…” The guy shrugged and Marco could swear his cheeks were dusted with a faint coating of pink. “It’s… it’s really good? You’re really good… Here’s your bag. Sorry. For like… snooping or whatever. I promise, I’m not some kind of creep. I write stuff, stuff kind of like your stuff with the Titans.”— _ Titans? _ How… How did he know to call them—“You’re bleeding.” 

Marco looked down, his train of thought snapping like a strand of spider’s silk. Sure enough, blood was darkening the elbow of his baby blue sweatshirt. “O-oh,  _ dangit. _ ” 

“H-hey, the um… The student health center is closed this time of night, but my roommate is a total klutz so I’ve got a bunch of bandages and stuff? If you wanna come up to my room, we can patch you up? I’m literally right here in Hall Rose…” the stranger said, gesturing to the building looming next to them. 

Marco frowned, considering as he looked the man over. “I… I dunno… I don’t think I should be going up to a stranger’s room…” he mused, trying to convince himself to ignore the inexplicable  _ pull _ he felt towards this man. 

“How about if I introduce myself? I’m not a stranger if I’m a new friend, right?” he asked, winking before holding out a hand. “Jean. Jean Kirschtein.” 

_ Jean. _

Marco’s eyes went wide for a moment before he recovered himself, shaking the hand offered to him. “M-Marco. Marco Bodt…” 

For the briefest of moments, Marco could have sworn he saw a flicker of fear and recognition pass across Jean’s face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Let’s get you patched up, Marco,” Jean said, swinging Marco’s bag onto his shoulder and helping him to his feet. 

That was how things started. 

Jean had led Marco to the elevator and into his room. He’d perched Marco on his bed as he bandaged him up, offering him one of his notebooks to read. It was only a few moments before Marco found himself sucked into the memories and places he knew so well. 

_ Trost. _

_ Wall Maria. Wall Rose. _

Those words struck chords of familiarity in Marco’s mind, like a once-familiar scent lingering in the still, summer air. He tried to convince himself not to think too much of it. After all, Maria and Rose were two of the dormitory halls at their university. 

Before long, Marco was spending more and more of his free time perched on Jean’s bed, pages of doodles and notes spread out between the two men. It was uncanny how well Jean’s ideas meshed with his and vice versa. Time and again, they brought up the same points or finished each other’s sentences. At times, Marco could almost convince himself that this world of monsters and treachery was  _ real, _ that they’d  _ been _ there somehow, that it was the only explanation for how perfectly their ideas intertwined. But, of course, that was the talk of a crazy person. And Marco knew better than to speak  _ aloud _ of his fantasy. He wasn’t going to alienate his new friend by making the man think he couldn’t tell fact from fiction. They were both bold, creative minds. That was all Jean needed to know. 

The other issue, from Marco’s perspective, was his slowly building crush. He  _ liked _ Jean. It was no secret that Jean identified as bisexual, but asking if he was interested in  _ Marco _ was another thing entirely. Marco did his best to convince himself  _ that _ didn’t matter either. He couldn’t get involved with  _ Jean. _ Marco was a  _ crazy _ person and Jean deserved  _ better  _ than that, Marco’s thoughts told him. No matter how often Marco found himself getting distracted by Jean’s lips or his fingers, no matter how distantly familiar and yet strange they seemed, Marco never dared to make a move. 

Marco would just be the very  _ best _ friend he could be, he decided. He would be Jean’s best friend, even if sometimes that meant getting into petty squabbles with said newfound best friend about some of the details for the comic of ‘their’ world that they’d decided to start working on together. 

"No, Marco, listen, that one  _ has to _ be a three meter. It doesn't make sense otherwise," Jean insisted, scribbling on his notes before gnawing at the back of his pencil again.

Marco huffed slightly, rolling his eyes as he kept working on sketching the body of another Titan. "Whatever you say,  Spitfire," he replied offhandedly.

Jean's pencil scratched to a halt across his paper and Marco froze in the same moment.

Marco wondered if his heartbeats were loud enough to be heard from where Jean was sitting. One moment passed in tense silence. Another. And another.

"...What did you just call me?" Jean asked carefully.

"I-- I don't know why I... S-sorry. I didn't--"

"...Marco...?" Jean asked quietly, effectively cutting him off.

"Y-yeah...?"

"You... you used to call me that."

"Used to? Used to wh--"

"Marco... I... You  _ know _ , don't you... It's..."

It was Marco's time to interrupt when Jean trailed off. "The... The first time I showed you my drawings... You called them Titans... Without... Without my calling them that..."

"You were drawing what I'd already been seeing in my nightmares every night..." Jean replied quietly, setting down his pencil.

Marco hardly dared to look up from the page,  hardly dared to meet Jean's gaze.

"...Look at me, Angel Eyes?"

Marco's gaze snapped up immediately, the name both strange and yet so familiar, like coming home. He could hardly breathe, heart hammering in his throat.

"...You know," Jean repeated. It wasn't a question this time. "That... that means..."

"...It was real," Marco finished. "B-but  _ how? _ "

"....I... I don't know. But...  _ Fuck... _ " Jean’s voice was filled with a mix of awe and fear as he set down his pencil. 

Marco held his breath as Jean’s fingers reached towards his face, brushing over his cheek as he shifted to sit closer by his side. It seemed as if in slow motion as Jean’s face came closer to his and Marco found his eyes closing out of instinct more than choice. 

_ Soft lips.  _

_ Fingers carding through a hasty undercut.  _

_ The warmth of flickering lamplight in a stone corridor. _

_ Hands fumbling with leather straps, pulling each other closer. _

_ Stolen breaths and stolen moments. _

Marco gasped as he jerked back from the kiss, nearly toppling off his bed. Eyes wide, his heart hammered against his chest as he pressed fingertips to his lips. His gaze raked over Jean’s, seeing the same fear and shock mirrored in his eyes. 

“Y-you saw it too…” Marco breathed, thoughts spinning. This wasn’t possible, this couldn’t be possible, this was  _ happening _ . Jean was…

_ His _ Jean. 

His dreams weren’t dreams. They were… They were real. Somehow, terrifyingly, inexplicably  _ real _ .

Jean swallowed, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes as he nodded. “ _ M _ - _ Marco… _ ” he breathed. 

A heartbeat passed between them. And another. 

Marco wasn’t sure who moved first but Jean was on top of him in a moment, chapped lips finding his as hands fisted in each other’s shirts. 

_ Stone walls, hard cots, a chill in the air, a warm body against his. _

_ Hands sliding up his sides.  _

_ Harsh cotton shirts being pushed away, off his lover’s shoulders. _

_ Teeth against pale skin. _

_ Hand brushing against— _

Marco’s hand drifted up under Jean’s shirt, skirting to find the spot he  _ knew _ would make Jean squirm. 

Jean gasped beautifully in reply, crying out as he clung to Marco’s shoulders, breaking away from the kiss to whisper praises to the ceiling as Marco’s fingers drifted along his chest, teasing and fondling at one nipple. 

Jean seemed to find himself again a moment later as Marco felt kisses pressed along his neck, ghosting lower, lower, low—

Marco moaned out as Jean’s teeth nipped at the most sensitive spot of his neck, just above the curve of his shoulder. He felt as much as heard Jean’s chuckle murmured against his skin. 

“Sensitive?” Jean asked, smugness creeping into his tone. 

Marco couldn’t help laughing as he scoffed, shoving at Jean’s shoulder lightly. “You know damn well.”

“Mm… maybe. I wonder what other spots I know about…” Jean smirked, stripping off his own shirt before diving back in to nip and kiss at Marco’s neck. 

Marco gasped, clinging to Jean desperately as he let his head fall back. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he decided  _ he _ needed to take more of the initiative in this.

_ Rolling on top of him. _

_ Sitting, straddling his hips, smirking down as he rolled his hips. _

_ “Now I’ve got you right where I want you, Jean…” _

_ Running his hands up pale, toned arms. _

_ Pinning Jean’s wrists above his head. _

_ “Oh yeah? And where exactly is that?” _

_ “I’ll show you.” _

_ “Ah! M-marco!” _

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that,” Marco purred, hearing his name from Jean’s lips, gasped out just the same way as in his memories when he rolled his hips down solidly as he nipped at Jean’s chest. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” Jean laughed breathlessly.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Marco laughed in reply, working open the button and zipper of Jean’s pants before palming at him with a squeeze. He groaned in time with his lover, feeling the firm heat of the bulge through the fabric. “Oh  _ god… _ That’s not bad…” 

Jean snorted, raising a brow. “Thanks… Mngh… C’mon, Marco…” he urged, hips twitching up at Marco’s teasing. 

“Hey, now,” Marco reprimanded teasingly, working Jean free of his pants, stroking at the cock in his hand. Fuck, he was almost a dead ringer for the size of Marco’s favourite toy. “I’ll get there when I’m good and ready.”

Jean groaned in frustration, reaching to squeeze Marco’s hip. “Fucking tease…” 

_ “Fucking tease…” _

_ A frustrated groan.  _

_ The soft creak of bands of leather against pale skin. _

_ “Yup… Sure am. Told you they’d work as cuffs.” _

_ “Fuck… Marco, this isn’t fair… Baby, I just wanna touch you…” _

_ “You’ll wait, Jean… Good things are worth waiting for, hmm?” _

_ “I… I’d wait forever for you… But this is just torture…” _

_ “Oh, alright… How can I say no to you?” _

For as much as Marco wanted to draw this out, wanted to marvel at everything that was happening, he’d  _ never _ been particularly patient in bed and he was  _ rapidly _ leaking a wet spot against his favourite baby blue shorts. “Y-you’ve got lube and condoms, right?” Marco asked

Jean grinned. “I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, pushing hard and flipping them in a moment, pinning Marco for a moment before working to kiss down his chest and stomach, undoing his pants as he went. 

_ Gasping promises whispered against soft skin.  _

_ The soft brush of long fingertips down between his legs. _

_ A breathless laugh gasped as one blissfully long finger sunk home. _

“Oh fuck,  _ Jean… _ ” Marco moaned out, dizzy from the flashes of memories dancing through his mind. “Fuck, Jean,  _ more… _ ” 

“Anything you want, Angel Eyes,” Jean murmured, brushing a second fingertip against Marco’s rim before pushing it in slowly. 

Two slow thrusts and Jean was brushing against  _ that _ spot with an expert precision that had him arching up from the bed, eyes rolling back as he clung hard to Jean’s bicep, gasping out an affirmation. 

“There, baby? Yeah? Fuck, you’re so  _ gorgeous, _ ” Jean urged, brushing the hair back from Marco’s face. “You’ve always been so  _ gorgeous… _ ” 

Marco couldn’t form  _ words _ with the way Jean was driving him higher and higher into maddening pleasure. “ _ More… _ J-jean, I need it, need  _ you… _ ” 

_ “Jean, I need you…” _

_ A soft chuckle, a brush of lips against his temple.  _

_ “Patience, Angel Eyes… We’ll get there. I don’t want to hurt you.” _

_ “You could never. Now hurry up. _ ”

“You’re sure, Marco…?” Jean asked, looking down at Marco seriously. 

Marco offered a breathless laugh in return. “Either you hurry up and fuck me or I’ll pin you down and take it myself.”

“You’ve never been good at patience, huh?” Jean asked, amused smirk playing at his lips. 

Marco felt his heart soar at the reassurance that Jean was seeing and  _ knowing _ everything that he was. He grinned, shaking his head and stealing a kiss. “Mm…  _ Nope _ . Never. Condoms?” 

Jean snorted, nodding and pulling back to get one from somewhere in the drawers under his bed. He carefully tore the package before offering it to Marco’s grabbing hands, letting him pinch and roll it down Jean’s cock carefully. 

Marco stroked at Jean once… twice… a third time, before the need overcame him and he pulled back. “C’mon… show me what I’ve been missing, hmm?” he asked, winking. 

Jean watched him for a moment and Marco could  _ see _ the recognition and reminiscing in his expression. But then the moment snapped and Jean was surging forward, catching Marco in a kiss before he lined himself up to push in. 

_ “Oh, fuck! _ ”

_ “You’re okay?” _

_ “Y-yeah… I’m fine. D-don’t stop…” _

_ “We’ve got all the time in the world, Marco…” _

_ “What’s the matter? You getting gun-shy, Spitfire?” _

_ “Oh that’s it—” _

_ “Fuck, Jean! Yes!” _

Marco gasped as Jean picked up his pace suddenly, clinging on with a breathless laugh as his toes curled. “O-oh  _ fuck, _ Jean! Oh…” 

“Yeah…? Y-you like it like that, M-marco?” Jean breathed, shifting Marco’s leg up onto his shoulder to give him more leverage. 

Marco keened, nodding desperately as his hands tangled in the pillows above his head. “Y-yes! Yes, fuck yes, don’t s-stop…” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it…” Jean answered, brushing Marco’s hair back from his pace in a moment of tenderness before he picked back up on his pace. 

It wasn’t long before Marco felt his release building in the pit of his stomach, past and present dancing and blending together in a whirlwind of pleasure that had him climbing higher and higher as his eyes fluttered halfway shut. “ _ Jean… _ ” 

“Y-yeah, baby? You close? You look so good… S-so fucking good…” Jean breathed, small grunts and moans dusting themselves across his words. 

“Y-yeah… M’gonna…”

Marco felt Jean’s hand sliding up his chest and he knew what was coming next.

_ Long fingers. _

_ Brushing against his nipple. _

_ Pinching hard at the sensitive nub just as his cock hit home. _

_ “Cum for me, Marco…” _

And he did. 

Marco came hard with Jean’s cock buried deep inside of him, just as he always had, just as he always  _ wanted _ to, clenching around the perfect sensation of Jean fucking him through his peak. 

Jean’s lips babbled incoherent praises as he managed only a few more thrusts before he tipped over his edge as well, tossing his head back with a strangled cry muffled against over-bitten lips. Jean collapsed on top of him a moment later, panting and kissing softly at his neck and shoulders for a few blissfully long minutes. 

Marco indulged himself in petting at Jean’s back and shoulders, kissing his hair and murmuring small praises against it.

“H-hey… I’m gonna get something to clean us up, yeah?” Jean asked after a few more indulgent minutes, pulling out and tossing the condom.

Marco shuddered at the feeling of Jean slipping out of him, nodding and letting himself drift into the memories that danced behind his eyes.

_ A warm washcloth brushing over his skin, carefully cleaning him up. _

_ “You’re always so careful…” _

_ “Of course… You deserve it.” _

_ “Wh… Just come back to bed, Jean. I don’t mind a little mess.” _

“...I can’t believe you still have that birthmark on your hip…” Jean mused, thumbing across it as he lay naked at Marco’s side. 

Marco froze for a moment before laughing, burying his face against Jean’s hair as he tugged him closer. “This is so bizarre…” he murmured, voice fond as he ran his fingers through the soft, short hairs at the base of Jean’s neck. 

“ _ So _ bizarre…” Jean agreed, kissing up along Marco’s neck gently.

“...You found me again…” Marco noted quietly. “Everyone always thought I was crazy…  _ I _ thought I was crazy…”

“I… I don’t know how but… I know you’re not crazy, Marco. This is real.  _ We’re _ real… And I’m never letting you go again,” Jean insisted. 

“But  _ Jean… _ I have to  _ pee… _ ” Marco lamented with a pout. 

Jean snorted, rolling his eyes and shoving at Marco’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, go pee. But then come back and cuddle, yeah?”

“Of course,” Marco grinned, kissing his cheek. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it feels like it's been forever since I posted something jeanmarco. It feels good to finish something with the boys again. I've got some other pieces in the pipelines that I've been working on with the help of some people very special to me so look out for those soon!
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to whack that author subscription button on my profile for more updates or find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/hedonistink), [tumblr,](http://hedonistink.tumblr.com/) or [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/HedonistInk) for WIPs, idea snippets, and extras!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are treasured and appreciated! Your comments give me life!


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